


Shipwreck

by SkyPiglet



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: F/F, PTSD, Poetry, Sexual Abuse, Trauma, leatin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29371845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyPiglet/pseuds/SkyPiglet
Summary: Moments from Leah's time on the island, in poetry form. Leahtin and Leah's trauma stuff(trigger warning: sexual abuse, emetophobia, blood)
Relationships: Fatin Jadmani & Leah Rilke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Shipwreck

i.

The sea swims at her ankles,  
the sky hazy with rain  
when she wakes up.

She opens her mouth to scream  
but only hears the surf  
and her heart pounding

like the first night he kissed her  
and everything felt better  
until it didn’t. Now

she’s alone with her thoughts—  
seven strangers and a ghost,  
all their eyes staring

straight through her.

ii.  
The ringing in her dreams  
is real. She digs up her own  
corpse, nails bloody, sea glass

splinters in her palms just  
to answer the call: _leave me  
alone_, he says. She cradles

the dead bird like a child, singing  
herself to sleep, as her eyes  
return to the sea.

iii.  
 _I'm not crazy_ , she screams,  
even as the horses in her head  
beat against the walls. Sometimes,

she wants to burn  
every last page that makes  
the book of this earth.

Sometimes, she walks  
into the ocean like a river,  
disappearing--

and her body is a jellyfish,  
every inch lined with stingers,  
and no one can touch her.

iv.  
If everything she touches  
turns to shit, then why  
does her head swim blue

when she sees her, when that girl  
smiles at her like she hasn’t done  
a damn thing wrong?

Is this how it’s supposed to feel,  
like treading water? Her hand  
itches, an invisible wound aching,

pulling her to shore. _Home_ ,  
and all that matters  
is right in front of her,

seven sisters and two ghosts,  
a crumpled book burning bright  
as she writes new stories.

v.  
Her insides molt  
onto sand, poison  
mussels, abs contracting

with all the violence  
of his final words, _out  
of the car, out of my life._

Her body purges every last  
cell he once knew  
in a terrible shuddering—

a sick orgasm in reverse,  
her eyelids twitching  
as cleansing fire escapes

her throat, _out, out,_  
again and again, until  
nothing remains.

vi.  
The buzz of human touch  
is enough to make her cry,  
and the girl surrounding her

is like warm summer nights  
spent under the stars.  
She watches them twinkle

in the darkness, fingers tangled  
in her hair. Everything hurts,  
but it hurts less every day.

The other girl sings  
a wordless lullaby, holding  
water to her lips. _In, in._

_Drink up, drink up._  
It’s okay, it’s okay.  
I love you, I love you.


End file.
